Monday am. I'll first digress to a note on our Sunday am walk. The dogs and I had made a large loop up past Rigler elementary school, with it's lovely "Peace Garden," on the southeast corner of the block. The sun warming the morning air, I had my sweater tied around my waist. Heading back north towards Killingsworth, I noticed a large apple tree on the southwest corner of 55th and Emerson. Being something of a scavenger (am I part buzzard?) and noticing a great number of apples lying in the sidewalk and road, I crossed the street to investigate. There was certainly a riot of apples lying on the ground. There is always a kind of prickly uncertainty to picking something up that doesn't "belong" to you. However, the sheer quantity was overpowering. The apples were small in size, looked like gravensteins, and were tending away from pale green, towards a yellowish hue with the fine red strips. I picked up one and brought it to my nose--mmmmm the heavenly innocent fragrence of ripening apple! walking a few steps around the cluster, I picked up one more, then noticed an odd thing. An apple with a red blotch around it. Looking more closely--someone had spray-painted the apple, and the road right around it also received the honor. There was one other apple so treated. Hmm, now I had to think, were my prizes tainted? Giving them a close look, I was reassured, and plopped them into my pocket.

One more notable incident from Sunday's walk. As I approached Killingsworth, to cross and head back home, I noticed an older child carrying a toddler girl out toward the parking lot, then back towards the apartment door, placing her carefully within. As I crossed the street and reached the sidewalk, another small child called out to me "does the dog bite?." No, I reassured him. "Can I pet him?." This is an almost universal reaction of children to the dogs. This young boy, appearing to be about 3 in age, joined us where we waited, in the driveway next to his yard. This little boy was so glad to greet Tiger (Zeno is shy of children, and hangs back.) First he stroked her head and muzzle as he talked. "Her name is Tiger," I informed him. "I have a dog, but it's not real," he said. "Oh, so you have a pretend dog for a friend!" I answered. Looking down, I saw that his short black hair stood out straight from his head, and every hair seemed lit up with golden sunlight. He stroked Tiger's back, then circled her waist with his arms. "I could pick her up." he said. I asked his name, which he gave me, and told me his brother and dad's as well. Big brother and father had the same name. "Oh, so it's _______, jr, and _________, sr., I commented. Yes he said _________, Tito and ________Jr. In a moment, I told him I had to go home. He continued our conversation as heading towards his apartment door.

This morning, filled with inspiration, and utilizing a gift from my daughter, "Best Hikes with Dogs," I had set out early with my trusty friends, hoping to find Tryon Creek State Park. But that was not to be, as I couldn't seem to make the connection between Barbur Boulevard and Terwilliger Boulevard, even after getting help from a friendly fellow with a shiny black pickup.

So I ended up at Willamette Park, in the John's Landing area. It's a neatly kept park, stretching along the west side of the Willamette (There is a charge for parking of $3 if you don't have a boat, if you do, the charge goes up 1 dollar.) The grass is yellow now, and there is a nice paved walking path which winds through old trees. Walking south, there was a flock of more than 100 Canada geese, by my count. Where the path circles back at the south end of the park, I noticed a footpath down to the bank of the river. It was that, or head south out of the park on the small side street. Zeno voted for the river. Getting down there entailed crossing over a couple of old logs (probably meant to keep us out!) I helped Zeno over the logs (no problemo for the energizer bunny Tiger.) We wandered south a little ways. The river seemed low, and there was a mixture of grass and another creeping weed growing in the silt. Zeno wandered down to the water and started to wade in. I called him back so I could remove the leash while he swam. Tiger seemed to want to go in with him. I made the mistake of believing her, and immediately as the halty was removed, she bolted back towards the shrubs and brush behind us. As I called and fumed at her to return, with loud honking and calling, the large flock of Canadian geese flapped down and settled onto the water. Thankfully Tiger returned without too much effort on my part. A "pack" once more, we clambered back up to the park.

Earlier this morning, I watched from my window as the recycling truck bumped, squealed, and clanked along with it's monday am recycling chores. Guess I'll get to mine now.